


Trust And Faith

by kierathefangirl



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 2P Hetalia, 2P North Italy acts like a six year old when he wakes up, 2Ptalia, Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, High School AU, Human AU, Knife Fetish, M/M, Multi, adorable child, lower-middle-class German family, poor Italian family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-04-18 12:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14213463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kierathefangirl/pseuds/kierathefangirl
Summary: By chance meeting, Luciano befriends the new German boy in town, Lutz. Lutz stands up for Lucca and friendship ensues.





	1. New Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: cussing, rape, and other forms of abuse. Also, extremism and homophobia.
> 
> First person POV. Perspectives identified at top of chapter.
> 
> Written while listening to a Tarzan Medley put together by Georgia Merry, on repeat/loop. ((https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PfbBwaNpvxY))
> 
> I'm looking for some ideas for the next chapter...if you have one, let me know in the comments!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luciano tries to sneak past the new boy, with no success.

**_~Luciano~_ **

I slip stealthily out of the walk-in food pantry, bag slung on my shoulders. But this time, the room isn’t empty. There’s another boy, a new boy with blonde hair and violet eyes and scars on his face and arms. He scoops up some snack foods out of the food pantry, then zips it into his bag and slips out. He’s wearing a dark green cap on his head, a military jacket and pants, a white tank top, and dark grey military boots. A large cross is slung lazily on a dark chain around his neck.

I slip out of the room and head for the doors to the outside world. But the boy has other plans. He reaches out and catches me by my shoulder, tugging me back around to face him.

I backpedal a couple steps and drop my eyes. He’s an upperclassman, probably a senior. He’s strong—strong enough he could easily bully me if he decides to just like everyone else.

“Hallo,” he says. He has a thick German accent; he must be new to the area. I would remember an accent like that. Maybe he’s even new to the country.

He takes a step forward. I take a step back, towards the door.

He tilts his head slightly, then reaches out a hand as if to touch me. I flinch back and he drops the hand.

Silence fills the tension between us. My instincts scream at me to run, but my mind wonders just what he’ll do. He doesn’t seem like the others.

I peek at him, then drop my eyes again. _It can’t hurt to say hi, right?_ “…Ciao.”

“You’re very shy,” he says curiously.

I twitch a little, keeping my eyes on my shoes. If I ignore him long enough, maybe he’ll go away. That’s safer, anyway. I don’t need to drag anyone else through the mud that permeates my life.

He sort of laughs. It’s a curious laugh, a gentle laugh. His arms fold across his chest almost defensively, then he jerks his head towards the pantry. “You use it, too?”

I blink a little, then shrug. “Sometimes.”

He sort of smiles. “You always give one-word answers?”

“Usually.”

He tilts his head, his eyes wondering and gentle. “Are you afraid?”

I blink a little and my eyes widen slightly. “N-no. I just—people don’t usually talk to me.”

“Why not?” He seems a little amused by that. “It’s not like you’ll bite.”

I smile for half a millisecond. “I’ve bitten someone. Once. They bled.”

He chuckles. “They probably deserved it, then.”

I shift uneasily. Again, my body tells me to run while my brain tells me to stay. “My older brother has a knife fetish,” I tell him quietly. “They call me knife boy. I think they’re scared of me. I don’t know.”

Again, he sort of smiles. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re adorable.”

I blink a bit, taken aback. No one’s ever said that before.

I shift a little more upright, a little less tense. “My brother likes to threaten to stab people. He’d never do it but it’s a little put-offish. Once they get close, though, he’ll never let them go. I think only Andrés has realized that. Most people scare off easily.”

He rolls his eyes. “A little knife never scared me.” He holds up his right arm with the three long scars on it, crooking an eyebrow. “Knives.”

My eyes widen just a little. “Why?”

He shrugs and drops the arm. “Because I’m bi and my brother’s gay. Our family didn’t like that. He’s got a cross cut into his face. This was also them.”

He runs his finger along the scar trailing diagonally across his cheek. “They like knives. All they did was desensitize me to violence. They were trying to convert me.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s never gonna work.”

I shift a little in surprise. I’ve never spoken so easily with such a total stranger.

He holds out his hand in offering. A black cloth glove encases his hand, as well. “I’m Lutz.”

I hesitate a moment, then very briefly allow him to shake my hand. “Luciano.”

“Ha ha ha, yeah,” the voice comes from up the hall.

Just like that, all the tension I had—and more—returns. I take a couple steps back until my back is pressed against the closed door, ready to run.

Lutz looks that direction, then back at me. “You’re bullied,” he says questioningly.

“Maybe,” I dismiss it quietly. “Maybe I just don’t like people.”

“Or maybe you’ve met a lot of assholes and haven’t caught a break,” Lutz declares boldly. He shakes his head. “There’s seven _billion_ forty-eight _million_ people on this planet and growing, Luciano. You can’t tell me all of them are bad.”

“Not all of them are bad, I want to help the good people,” I shake my head. “But there’s also a lot of assholes and I’ve met _all_ of them around here. Especially Hayden.”

“Him?” Lutz asks, jerking his head towards the laughter.

I nod mutely. He rolls his eyes. “He’s just an immature ass. Let it go.”

I shake my head quickly back and forth. “He’s not just verbally teasing me.”

“You mean he hits you,” Lutz says flatly.

I flinch back. “Maybe.”

“Does your brother know?”

“God, no.” I shiver a little. “That’s a terrible idea. He’d call Sebastiano, our older brother. And he really _isn’t_ afraid to use knives. He’d cut him open.”

“Has he put you in the hospital?”

I hesitate. “…Maybe.”

Lutz mutters a curse, then clenches and unclenches his fists. “My dad works at the hospital. I’ve heard a lot of stories of the people who end up there.”

He sighs. “How many times?”

I shrug. “I stopped keeping track. He’s been pushing me around since freshman year.”

“And you’re…a junior, right?”

I shift a little, then nod. Lutz sighs. “Two years.”

His voice keeps getting closer. My hands begin to tremble, my eyes shifting to the hall he’s coming from.

Hayden and two of his friends come out of the hall into the lunch room nearby, then he looks over and laughs, coming my way. “Oh look,” he says. “It’s knife boy.”

I shift upright again. Hayden’s one of the few people to ever have seen me actually scared; but now Lutz and Hayden’s buddies see it, too. I haven’t eaten in three days and I haven’t slept in a week. It’s wearing me down. I need a break. I hate admitting to weakness, but I’m scared. Very scared.

Hayden laughs. “Look,” he says, pointing to my hands where they tremble in little fists. “Knife boy’s _scared_. Ha ha.”

His buddies laugh. I press further away from him. “Leave me alone.”

My voice is soft and shaky, not loud and firm like it usually is. That’s enough to tell Hayden I’m wearing down, and he just laughs again. “And why should I?”

“I have enough going on without you pushing me around,” I tell him boldly.

He grabs me by my collar and pulls my body against his, forcing his mouth on mine. I try to shove him off, but like everyone he’s stronger than me. He doesn’t budge.

Lutz seems to have had enough, and he pulls Hayden off of me and shoves him a couple steps back. “Leave him alone, jackass.”

I cough a couple times and drag my sleeve across my mouth. I can’t even suppress a tiny shudder. I usually can hide how I’m feeling, at least in front of other people. But I’m too tired and hungry to focus on what look is on my face.

Hayden laughs. “Get outta my way, new boy, or you’re next.”

One of Hayden’s henchmen tries to shove Lutz out of the way. But rather than budging, he barks a laugh and grabs the guy’s arm. He lifts him up like he weighs nothing, then flips him over his shoulder drops him on his back on the floor. His other buddy takes offense at that and tries to punch him, and he does the same thing; he flips him up over his shoulder and right onto his friend.

Hayden looks mildly unnerved by that, but he cracks his knuckles and clenches his fists. “Outta my way.”

“No.” His voice is quiet, but so firm even I flinch.

Hayden tries to go around him, and he catches him by his right arm. It seems like he’s about to do the same thing, then he twists Hayden’s arm around until he begins to squirm and lifts him up, chucking him onto one of the tables across the room. His friends scramble to their feet and take off running. Hayden rolls back to his feet, and, with one frightened look at Lutz, takes off after them.

Lutz dusts his hands off like that was nothing and turns back to me. “Are you okay?”

My mouth is now slightly open, and I blink blankly at him. He’s even stronger than Hayden, yet he decided to take my side. If he really wanted to, he could hospitalize me or even kill me. I’m _damn_ lucky he decided not to turn on me.

I shake my head a little, trying to come back to my senses. Lutz smirks. “Never seen that before?”

I cough a little. “N-no. No one ever stands up to Hayden. Hell, no one stands up for _me_ in general. I just—I—”

“Well, that’s gonna change,” he says confidently. “He’s going to jail, where he belongs.”

I reach back and push the door open, turning and slipping outside seconds before the bell rings. He follows, falling into step with me as if we do this every day. Not even a full month into the school year, and I may have accidentally made a friend. Completely accidentally. Maybe my family was wrong.

For most of the walk, he just talks. About himself, about his brother Gilen (who apparently has a sword-and-armor fetish), about his family, about his life. He keeps bringing up something called Christmas, something called Thanksgiving, and something called a birthday party.

Finally he notices my blank look. “What?”

I look away. “Nothing.”

“Don’t you celebrate your birthday?” he asks curiously.

I shift a little. “What do you mean?”

He blinks a little. “Uh…well, usually you have cake or ice cream or pie or whatever, you usually choose what to eat for dinner, and people buy you gifts. Y’know, ‘ _hurray, you survived another year_ ’. It’s all about you and things you like. Sometimes you get to pick a place to go, like if you wanna go ice skating or roller skating or to a park or something. It’s also how you keep track of how old you are.”

“We keep track because our brother reminds us,” I shrug. “He calls on our birthday. But no, I haven’t. We’re barely getting by as is, we don’t have enough money to spare to do that.”

“What about Christmas?”

I bite my lip for a second, then admit quietly, “I don’t know what that is.”

He slows. “Thanksgiving?”

“I’ve heard of it but we never have enough money.”

He releases a slow breath. “Christmas is about gift-giving and being with family. Y’know, you, your brothers, your parents, all together for one day. And you buy eachother things. It could be as small as new socks or shoes or clothing, or as big as a remote-control car or even, if you have enough, a car of your own. And you get a stocking full of small treats like chocolate Santas and Hot Wheels cars. And a lot of people wish for snow because it’s December and it’s cold. Christmas Eve is the twenty-fourth and Christmas Day is the twenty-fifth.”

I give him a blank look. He sighs. “Christmas is important.”

I drop my eyes. “Not enough money. Dad’s not home enough; Mom’s still in Italy; my older brother Seb’s a lawyer so he’s still working that time of year; and Flavio’s usually out with friends all the time.”

He blinks a bit. “Your mom’s still in Italy?”

I shrug. “Tickets are expensive. And she just recently came around.”

He gives me a blank look. I look away. “She’s a bit homophobic like everyone else.”

He grumbles a little in irritation. I shift a bit. “One of my aunts and one of my uncles isn’t. My uncle Elario never was homophobic, and my aunt Allegria decided she didn’t want to be. My grandfather—my namesake—was the only one that just never judged. He was always telling people to ‘ _find someone that knocks your socks off and makes you the happiest you can possibly be_ ’ and not to focus on what gender that person is. He told a few of my cousins that. He told his kids—my mom and her two sisters—that. Not that they all listened, obviously, but he tried.”

He frowns. “He _was_? Why do you speak of him in past tense?”

I shift my eyes away. “He died when I was thirteen.”

“How old are you?” he asks curiously.

“Fifteen.”

“Oh.”

For awhile, we’re quiet. But right at the poor edge of the middle class neighborhood next to mine—I’m right smack in the middle of the poor neighborhood—he comes to a stop, rocking back and forth on his feet. He seems a little uneasy.

Finally he speaks. “Your life is shit.”

I cough and flash a quick smile. “You’re just now realizing that? My life is literally the highway to hell, but covered in shit. Every turn there’s another mound of it. My uncle Angelo tried to hit me when I came out and my dad and brothers had to stop him. My uncle Ennio literally tried to rip out my collarbone when I was eight and it scarred.”

I loosen my jacket of my military uniform and pull my clothes away from the scar, just enough he can see it, then I release it again. “My aunt Elnora was constantly threatening to throw me under the bus and tell the church Seb and I were gay. She also did this.”

I pull my gloves off. Scars criss-cross over the fragile skin. I slide them back on. “My grandfather, the first person to actually accept me, died when I was thirteen. I got uprooted from the only home I’d ever known and moved here because of who and what I am. But here, people bully me because I’m Italian, and apparently Italians ‘ _can’t drive and are usually drunk_ ’. They bully me because I’m gay. They bully me because of who my brother is. Then there’s Hayden. I mean, you can guess what he’s doing just from what you saw today. He likes to hit me if I fight back.”

I shrug. “My life is literally just shit, and lots of it. I can’t catch a break. I’m covered in scars from both Hayden and my family. I haven’t eaten in three days because we’re low on money and I haven’t slept in a week. I would’ve slept but Hayden’s getting worse and he knows where I live. I’m always alone because no one likes me so I don’t have anywhere to turn when things get bad. I don’t want to talk to my brothers because they’ll get violent. My dad came here because of my brothers and doesn’t care about me. How much does it take for you to realize why I don’t like people?”

For several minutes, he stands still. He stays silent. It’s almost a thoughtful silence, but an extremely tense and uncomfortable one that neither of us want to break.

Finally he breaks the silence. “I kind of want to kill your family.”

I flash a quick smile and shift a bit. “Mafia. You don’t wanna mess with them.”

“What?”

I roll my eyes. “He’d never admit it, but my uncle Ennio is part of the Mafia. It’s like a gang, but worse. You’d die if you fucked with anyone back home.”

He grits his teeth, then he turns to face me directly again. “Luci.”

“Lucca,” I correct automatically. “If you’re gonna shorten it do it right.”

He closes his eyes for a second. “Lucca.”

For a moment, he doesn’t speak. Then he says quietly, “You deserve better. Hell, you’re fucking gorgeous. Anyone who says otherwise is jealous or selling something. You deserve better.”

I shift a bit. “Deserve is a strange word to use.”

He sighs and opens his eyes. “Lucca, _you deserve better._ Just because your life’s been hell up to this point doesn’t mean it can’t get better. You can get out of the car on the highway to hell and climb the stairway to Heaven. You’re not screwed. Not yet.”

“I don’t—”

He holds up a hand. “Let me finish.”

My mouth is still open a little, but I fall silent. He sighs. “Lucca…maybe you and your brothers need a little therapy. And I don’t mean conversion therapy, I mean _real_ therapy. But that doesn’t mean you’re too far gone. That doesn’t mean you can never be happy just because you’ve met a lot of assholes. And it _certainly_ doesn’t mean you’re incapable of making _friends_ or having anyone _care_ about you.”

I drop my eyes. He reaches out and takes my hand, this time without permission. “You deserve better. And I mean that—speaking as the son of a doctor and a therapist. Hayden can be taken care of— _legally_. That’s already gone on for too long. And you’re not alone. Not anymore. Literally nothing you say is gonna convince me to leave. I’m sticking around. So get used to it.”

He squeezes my hand, then drops it. “Seriously, you’re drop-dead gorgeous. Even my brother, as picky as he is about guys, would say the same. Own it.”

I hide my face in my hands. I’ve never been good with compliments, but this is a whole new level. He’s flirting with me _and_ he’s saying he’s gonna stick around because he actually likes me. Even with me being nearly impossible and with all my fucking issues, he wants to stay. That’s a new thing for me.

After a long silence, Flavio’s voice draws me out of my own head. “Lucca?”

I take a deep breath and look up. But I’m too out of it to manage words. He smiles at me and tilts his head to the side, his eyes only flicking to Lutz for a moment. “Are you okay?”

I cough a couple times. “I don’t know. He said we deserve better.”

I nod to Lutz. Lutz smirks. “And that you’re gorgeous.”

I duck my head again. Flavio goes still, similarly affected by the idea of deserving better.

Flavio glances at Lutz. “You hurt my fratello, I hurt you.”

“Fair enough,” Lutz shrugs it off.

“Deserve is a funny word to use,” Flavio says quietly.

“He said the same thing,” Lutz shrugs casually. “But speaking as the son of a doctor and a therapist, and the brother of someone who’s very mentally unstable, I can say that and mean it. Your life’s already been shit. You deserve better. It’s as simple as that.”

“Mentally unstable?” Flavio asks.

Lutz rolls his eyes. “He likes to wear swords and armor and pretend he’s a knight. He uses real swords, too, with sharp blades. He’s cut some of his friends before. It’s not that he doesn’t care, he’s just unstable and unpredictable. His name’s Gilen.”

“You’re new around here, aren’t you?” Flavio asks curiously.

Lutz grins. “We just moved here from Germany a little bit ago, ja. I’m Lutz.”

Flavio blinks, then answers. “Flavio.”

“So you’re his brother,” Lutz says.

Flavio glances at me, then nods. “Sí. Why?”

“They call him knife boy because of you,” Lutz shrugs. “They seem to think he’s scary. I think he’s adorable, but that’s just me. My family desensitized me to most things.”

He runs his fingers over the scars on his arms. “Particularly knives.”

Flavio scoffs and a brief laugh falls from his lips. “I’m not _that_ crazy. I’ve never actually used them. I just carry them with me. He’s just an adorable small child.”

“I’m not small,” I protest, scowling at my brother.

“That’s right, pout your rage out,” Flavio teases, then he smirks at me, ruffles my hair, and slides past us before I can think of a comeback.

“Jerk,” I mutter.

Lutz rolls his eyes. “Yeah, _so_ crazy. They’re just freaking wimpy if they think _he’s_ bad.”

I giggle a little. “Yeah.”

“Hey, that’s better,” he praises, reaching out and ruffling my hair.

I shift just a little so he won’t touch the curl, but I allow the contact. Even just one day, and I already trust him, at least a little. Normally I’d shove people away if they tried to touch me.

He drops his hand back at his side. I leave my hair ruffled, not really awake enough to care.

“You’re fucking a _dorable_ ,” he declares, crossing his arms over his chest.

I glare at him, but I don’t answer. He’s alright, I guess.

He dances his way up the driveway towards the nice-ish house. I sigh, shake my head, and turn for home. At least…if Hayden shows up again tonight…I have somewhere to run. Lutz would never let him do this again. Not again.


	2. Hot Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilen saw Lutz talking to Luciano outside.

**_~Lutz~_ **

Gilen smirks at me. “I saw you talking to hot boy outside.”

I grin at him. “Hey, Lucca’s mine, bro.”

“Lucca, is it?”

“Luciano,” I shrug. “But he said Lucca’s basically the same thing.”

I let my backpack slide off into his hands. “He’s actually really cute. People think he’s crazy because his brother Flavio has a knife fetish—the blonde—and he’s been bullied a ton because he’s gay and Italian. I mean, one of his uncles tried to rip his collarbone out of his chest when he was eight years old. He’s fifteen. He’s seen a ton of shit and he’s gun-shy of touch. But he’s sweet—once you get past the put-offish shield and the flinching, that is. He acts like everyone’s going to hit him. There’s also an asshole at school who’s been beating him up and raping him since freshman year. He’s a junior now.”

I glance after Lucca. “He even tries to touch him—even  _ poke  _ him—ever again…he’s dead.”

Gilen raises an eyebrow. “He’s already dead.”

“Hey,” I chastise, “we talked about this. You can’t kill anyone or we have to move again. You’re already on probation. Don’t ruin it.”

He sighs and pouts. “Hey, he’d deserve it.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve every bit of shit that comes his way,” I shrug casually. “But if we take care of this, we do it the legal way. We call the cops. Hell, Andrés’ dad is a cop if we need one. He’s been reasonably nice to me. Flavio was pretty okay. Lucca’s just nine thousand levels of adorableness. I mean, I told him that him and his bros—he has two older brothers, Flavio and Sebastiano—deserve better, y’know, which they do, and you’d think I hit him with a brick to the face, he looked so stunned. He’s just a kid and he’s already a mix of cynical and fucking terrified all the time.”

“He’s gorgeous,” Gilen sighs.

I grin. “He is, yeah. He doesn’t think he is because he’s covered in scars. There’s a scar from his uncle, and scars all over his hands from his aunt. He didn’t specifically mention others, but he hinted in the direction that those weren’t the only ones when he said he’s covered in scars. He’s just…damn. If he wasn’t already so gun-shy of touch I’d totally try and hug him or something but that might scare him off. I don’t wanna push it and lose him. Also apparently one of his uncles is in the Mafia.”

“The Italian Mafia?” he asks.

I nod. He rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ idiot.”

I laugh. “Yeah, he’s stupid. He’s also majorly homophobic, apparently. Lucca’s cool, though. I think him and his brothers might need a little therapy—mainly Sebastiano—but they’re not insane-asylum-level too far gone. They’re just a bit fucked up. …Literally.”

Gilen shakes his head a little. “What’d’he tell you?”

I wave him up the hall into my room, flopping down on my bed. He sets my backpack down at the foot of the bed, then flops down next to me to listen. Lucca said a lot, so I’m just gonna tell him what I know.


	3. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luciano is woken up and runs.
> 
> Gilen doesn't understand what "the poor end of poor" really means.

**_~Luciano~_ **

I snap awake at four in the morning. I don’t know why I’m awake until I hear his croon: “ _ Lucca! Come out, come out and play! _ ”

“Shit,” I mutter, rolling up to my feet. Looks like I might have to pull the friendship card on Lutz already.

I slip up to the door and scoop up the pen and notepad, scribbling a note to Flavio. He’ll freak if I don’t. “ _ Going over to Lutz’s house. May or may not come back. See you later. ~Lucca _ ”

I set them down and unlock the door, slipping outside and shutting it.

I take a deep breath, shake out my sleepy limbs, and bound down the walk, then break into a full-out sprint. Hayden gives chase; he’s faster than me and he knows it. But I’m not going far. I just need to make it to the door, then I’m safe.

I weave my way out of the neighborhood onto the throughway, jumping a couple fences to cut the time. But finally I can see his house, right on the edge of the middle class neighborhood.

Hayden rounds the corner and picks up the pace. This is a main road and he doesn’t want to get caught.

I turn and skid up the drive, sliding to a stop in front of the door. Hayden tackles me, and I reach out with my foot and kick the door. It’s just once, a loud boom, but it’s enough. I already hear low voices inside.

Hayden kicks and bites and digs his knees into my stomach. I try to shove him off, but I know it’s useless. Most of the fighting is just for show. I don’t really care, not yet. But Lutz will.

An overhead light flips on and the door opens quietly. Hayden is too busy trying to pin me down to realize he’s screwed until it’s too late and he’s picked up by his collar.

A tall, buff man stands before me, silvery white hair laying in a ponytail down his back. Sky blue eyes gleam in the faint light and a white cape with a Prussian cross, tattered and old, lays down his back. The hood is flipped up over his head, shadowing his face. A Catholic cross is cut into his left cheek, a scar left behind from an old knife. His left arm has gauze wrapped around the elbow and part of his arm. He wears a dark tank top and tattered dark brown shorts, revealing a lot of white skin and toned muscles. He holds Hayden’s weight up like he’s nothing, a scowl etched into his features. Then he drawls over his shoulder, “Lutz! I believe this is yours.”

Lutz pops around the corner. “I already called Andrés. Don’t worry about it. Give it a minute.”

A tall man, handcuffs in hand, comes striding calmly up the walk. He reaches out and pins Hayden’s wrists behind his back, closing the cold silver metal on his resistant wrists. Gilen—I’m assuming that’s who the albino with the cape is—drops Hayden into the cop’s arms. “Take care of it. This isn’t the first time he’s hurt this kid.”

The cop nods and carts Hayden off down the street.

It takes a couple tries, but I manage to roll up onto my knees and push up to my feet. Blood coats my lips and there’s a bite mark on my hand, but otherwise I’m fine. It’s not as bad as he usually is.

Lutz drops his phone in his pocket and moves forward. “Are you okay?”

Gilen takes a step back. “Come in, schön.” (( _ beautiful/handsome _ ))

“I don’t think he speaks German, bruder,” Lutz tells him, but he takes my hand and pulls me inside.

I drop my eyes from the light, blinking a few times. The lights inside are much brighter and it takes my eyes a couple minutes to adjust.

Once my eyes adjust, I take a quick look at Gilen again. He’s mildly attractive, and he’s smirking now. He’s a little less intimidating when he’s not scowling and holding a seventeen year old in the air by his t-shirt collar with just one hand. And not just any teenager, a heavily built jock. Hayden.

Lutz sighs and gestures. “This is Gilen. My brother.”

Gilen bows, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Hallo, gorgeous.”

I duck my head, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “Ciao.”

Lutz disappears for a moment, then returns with a paper towel. He tips my head towards him and wipes the blood from my lips, then tosses the paper towel into the garbage. “There.”

Lutz gives Gilen a warning glare, then slips off up the hall. “Vati! Wir haben Firma! Vielleicht möchten Sie ihn anschauen.” (( _ Dad! We have company! You might want to take a look at him. _ ))

I drop my eyes. The house is nice, far nicer than the dump we have. There’s even A/C and heating, which is a commodity in our neighborhood.

Gilen reaches out and closes the door, then flips his hood down. He looks a little more friendly without it up. His hair is floofy and frizzy underneath the hood.

Gilen turns a smirk on me. He seems okay, if a little flirtatious. “You shoulda heard Lutz earlier. He was so upset you hadn’t celebrated Christmas. He was ranting about it at dinner and how stupid it is.”

I flash him a brief, shy smile. “I didn’t even know it existed. That’s probably what really got him.”

“Probably,” Gilen agrees with a short bark of a laugh.

Lutz returns with a taller man in tow. He looks extremely serious, but his eyes are warm and inviting, if a bit tired. His hair is blonde like Lutz’s, but messier. His hair is also down, not sleeked back like Lutz seems to like it. He wears a button-up white shirt, a pilled black tie, and simple black dress pants with a black leather belt. It’s not quite formal, but it’s not informal either.

I drop my eyes back to the floor. Lutz ruffles my hair playfully. “He’s shy.”

The man grunts as if in answer, then mutters, “I noticed.”

I bite my lip, glancing at Lutz. He shrugs at me. “He’s my dad. He doesn’t bite.”

The man offers his hand as if he doesn’t expect me to accept it. “Doctor Beilschmidt.”

I hesitate a moment, then lift my hand and slide it into his. My grip is light and brief, but it’s better than nothing. “Luciano.”

“So you’re the boy Lutz was ranting about earlier,” the doctor says, amused.

I grin for a moment, glancing at him. “Probably.”

Lutz rolls his eyes. “Ranting is an exaggeration.”

“Ranting,” Gilen agrees.

Lutz rolls his eyes again and sticks his tongue out at his brother. “You’re the one that opened up flirting with him. I spent a long time talking to him before I even mentioned it.”

Gilen and Lutz begin to argue back and forth, but it’s playful banter. Their father shrugs at me. “They do this sometimes. Sibling rivalry and all.”

I flash him a shy smile. He smiles back, just as brief but a lot warmer.

After a moment, Doctor Beilshmidt sighs, steps around the cat-fighting boys and slips across the room to me. “Don’t mind them,” he says. “They do this a lot.”

He pulls a stethoscope from his pocket and pops it on, reaching out and pressing it just over my heart. His touch is light and he keeps his distance, just close enough to touch. I try to keep my breath steady, but my ribs keep protesting at the slow and full breaths.

The doctor seems to realize this, and he moves the stethoscope down a little. “Take a deep breath again.”

I close my eyes so he won’t see the pain in my eyes, then breathe in slowly. My ribs twinge in protest, and he nods and slides the stethoscope around his neck. He turns towards his arguing sons. “Lutz. He may actually be hurt. Shut up for a second.”

Both of them turn. Their father crosses his arms and says, “Boys, this banter is beneath you. You’re teenagers, not twelve year olds. Now get in the car. And bring your boyfriend.”

He heads up the hall. Lutz flushes scarlet. “We’re not—”

“Just do it,” his father cuts him off.

Gilen giggles, then offers his hand. “May I, dear?”

I give him a weird look, but I let him take my hand. I think at this point, it seems Lutz and Gilen are fighting over me. Which is strange to me. Most people fight over who gets to hit me first.  _ They _ fight over who gets to flirt with me. It’s…I don’t know. It’s different, I guess.

Gilen sticks his tongue out at his brother, then grabs the keys and leads the way out to the car. It’s a reasonably nice car, a Prius from a couple years ago. Gilen opens the door and bows like a fancy gentleman. “Go on.”

I slide into the car, not in any mood to protest. Plus Lutz’s scowl is freaking priceless, knowing what he’s upset over.

Lutz slides in next to me. Gilen sticks his tongue out at him, shuts the door, and gets in up front. I reach back and grab the belt in my fingers, tugging it out and clicking it into its spot on my other side.

Their father gets in the drivers’ seat and takes the keys from Gilen, setting them down in the console and pressing a button. The car flashes a key symbol, sputters, then roars to life. I’ve actually never been inside a car before. I’ve seen them at school, but we don’t have the money for one. Dad can barely pay for the bus as is. It’s a little strange to actually be  _ inside _ a car for the first time in my life.

Lutz reaches over and drapes an arm behind me. He’s not actually touching me, but it’s still a mildly flirtatious gesture. Gilen scowls, and Lutz sticks his tongue out at him. So this is normal sibling rivalry?

I shift my eyes out the window, watching things fly by far faster than I could ever walk. It takes Lutz a minute to lean in a little and ask, “Have you ever been in a car before?”

I glance at him. “No. Too expensive. Dad takes the bus and we walk.”

Gilen tips his head back to look at us in the mirror. “Ever?”

I shrug. “We’re at the poor end of poor. We’ve never had any money to spare, really. Sometimes we don’t even have enough money for meals, let alone a  _ car _ .”

Gilen turns to give his dad a disbelieving look. His dad shrugs. “Some people really are that poor, Gilen.”

“I know, but…not even a family car? What about a computer?”

I raise an eyebrow. Gilen frowns. “A phone?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Do you understand what ‘ _ the poor end of poor _ ’ really means, Gilen? A few less dollars, they could be on the streets. They don’t have any kind of luxuries.”

“Most of the houses in my neighborhood don’t have A/C or locks on the doors,” I add quietly.

Gilen’s eyes widen. “That’s basic!”

I shrug it off. “That’s why we have the most crime-ridden neighborhood. It’s cheap, but it’s dangerous. If you do get anything worth anything, like a car, it’s likely to get stolen, broken into, or destroyed. That’s just how it is. We’ve never known anything different.”

Gilen buries his face in his hands. He looks a little bewildered.

Lutz shifts his eyes out the window. He’s a bit uncomfortable, but he seems to understand better than Gilen does. Gilen’s not exactly  _ spoiled _ , he just doesn’t get how poor  _ poor _ really is.

“Once it’s bad enough to say you’re poor and not lower-middle-class,” Gilen’s father says quietly, “you can’t afford luxuries. They cost money. Even locks on doors. If there were locks, the prices on the houses would go up and most of those people wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

“Maybe you should become a public speaker,” Lutz suggests. “Preach about how stupid it is.”

Gilen throws his hands up in the air in a display of frustration. “Maybe.”

Their father pulls smoothly up into an employee parking space right up front and says, “It is what it is, Gilen. Life goes on.”

Gilen spins up out of the car. “It’s not  _ right _ !”

Lutz gets out. It takes a couple tries for me to figure out how to open the door and get up. Their dad gets up and shuts his door. “Of course it’s not. But  _ what’s right _ and  _ what’s profitable  _ often clash. That’s how it works in today’s world. Profit is put in front of  _ right. _ People are capable of choosing money over people’s safety, people they may never meet or understand. No, it’s not perfect. But it is what it is.”

Gilen stomps his foot angrily on the ground. Lutz takes my hand and pulls me towards the door. “Whatever it is, Gilen, we can discuss this later.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, but I can tell he’s  _ furious _ . I don’t know why, really; we’re used to it. It’s just normal where we are, but he seems to think it’s terrible and doing us a disservice. Maybe he should go out in public and rant about it if it bothers him that much.


	4. Get Some Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get home and Lutz tells Luciano he needs to sleep.

**_~Luciano~_ **

Lutz closes the door. “It’s five o’clock,” he says. “On a Saturday. Get some sleep.”

I cross my arms stubbornly. “No.”

Lutz takes this as a challenge. He reaches out and shoves me down on the bed, then rolls onto it and pulls the blankets over us both. “Seriously, Lucca, sleep is important.”

I curl up in a tiny little ball, but I don’t try to get up. I’m more nervous about sleeping around people than I am not tired. People I don’t know, at least. Unknowns. My brothers I trust. Gilen, his father, and his mother…I’m not so sure what I think about them just yet.

Lutz reaches out and lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Lucca,” he says quietly. His voice is softer now, gentler. “You’re safe here.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he pulls me closer and leaves an arm draped over me. “Just try and sleep.”

My body is already beginning to betray me. Despite the protests of my mind that it’s dangerous to sleep around unknowns, my body is already beginning to relax and settle down to sleep.

I blink once, then twice, then my eyes refuse to open. I’m too tired to fight him.

I release a slow breath, reaching out with my right hand and closing it on one of his. He doesn’t complain. I’m hoping the contact will be enough to keep me from waking up panicked.

I release another slow breath, my mind slipping from this world into another: the world of dreams.


	5. Try & Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lutz gets Luciano to sleep.

**_~Lutz~_ **

With his hand closed tightly on mine, Lucca’s body finally relaxes. His head hits the pillow. His breathing steadies out. He falls asleep.

I release a slow breath and close my hand on his, then shut my eyes. Hopefully, this will help him start to trust us. I can tell just by the look in his eyes when he was trying to fight it that he’s still scared. Not near as much, but he’s still scared.

I yawn a little, settling down and letting my tired body slip back to sleep.


	6. The First Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luciano wakes up to Lutz running fingers through his hair and find that being pet is "oddly pleasant."

**_~Luciano~_ **

My mind eases back into reality as easy as breathing. For once, I don’t snap awake in fear.

Fingers comb lightly through my hair. Warm fingers. Gentle fingers. Luckily, the fingers don’t touch the curl. The fingers of another hand trace little patterns on my back, dancing around with a feather-light touch. I’m not used to waking up with anyone else, let alone like this. This is oddly pleasant.

The moment I make a slight sound, the fingers leave my hair. I scoot closer, snuggling against the source of the warmth. If my brothers are around, this is what I do just after waking up. The first hour or so is the only time I’m really cuddly. Flavio calls it the time my inner child returns.

Lips press warmly, gently to the top of my head. Then they’re gone. I make a slight sound of protest, peeking an eye at him.

Lutz has a partial smile dancing on his lips. He doesn’t look quite amused, just content. The moment we make eye contact, the smile grows and shrinks again. “Hallo.”

I pout at him. He giggles. “What?”

I yawn a little bit. A little kid yawn. “Do it again.”

“Do what again?”

I huff at him and detangle a gloved hand from the blankets to point at my head. “Touch my hair. Just don’t touch the curl.”

He looks a little surprised. “Why?”

I huff again and pout at him. He rolls his eyes, but he shifts his fingers back into my hair. Now he does look a little amused. “You don’t seem to like touch that much.”

I make a slight humming sound. “Flavee says the first hour after I wake up is when my inner child comes back. Back before everything fell apart. I was seven when it fell apart.”

He sort of smiles, pulling me a little closer. “So you’re cuddly after you wake up?”

I hesitate, then nod mutely.

He rolls his eyes, but this is a warm and amused look. He half-smiles at me. “That’s cute.”

My eyes fall back closed. “That’s what grande fratello tells me. Fratello is good fratello.”

“Awww,” he giggles.

I peek one eye to glare at him, but it holds very little weight. “Fratello is best fratello. It’s not funny.”

“Fratello means brother, yeah?” he asks.

I pout at him and nod. He grins. “So how do you tell the difference between Flavio and Sebastiano?”

“Flavee is  _ grande _ fratello. Seb is  _ miglior _ fratello.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What’s the difference?”

I sigh. “ _ Grande _ fratello is  _ big brother _ .  _ Miglior _ fratello is  _ best _ brother. Just don’t tell him I said that because he thinks I hate him and we’re gonna keep it that way.”

“Why?” he asks curiously.

“Because.”

He pouts at me. I roll my eyes. “Sebbie is a jerk sometimes. If he knew I actually liked him he’d use it against me. He doesn’t need to know he’s best brother. And Flavee would get insulted if he knew.”

He giggles. “God, you’re just making me wish I knew you before all this shit went down. You’re absolutely adorable.”

I pout at him and huff. He giggles.

Gilen pokes his head in the room, then grins. “Hey, you’re awake.”

“Shhh,” Lutz hushes him. “You don’t wanna scare the child.”

“What?”

Now he looks bewildered. I huff and pout at Lutz. “I’m a big kid.”

Gilen’s eyes widen a little and he slips into the room and over to us. “What the hell?”

Lutz grins at him. “Apparently, in the first hour after he wakes up, he reverts back to his six-year-old self. The him before his life went to complete shit. And it’s fucking adorable. He huffs and pouts at you a lot. Apparently, Flavee—Flavio—is big brother and Seb—Sebastiano—is  _ best _ brother. Or so he says. But if Seb knew that, he’d use it against him.”

I pout at him. “I didn’t say you could tell Gil that.”

Gilen raises an eyebrow. “Gil?”

“Apparently six-year-old Lucca also gave everyone nicknames,” Lutz shrugs. “Seb, Sebbie, Flavee. Gil. It seems to be his thing.”

I cross my arms and pout at him. “Lucca is right here and isn’t happy. Shut up and pet my hair.”

Gilen bursts out laughing. Lutz runs his fingers through my hair again. “Also he apparently likes being touched. I’m just sorta rolling with it. He used to be super cuddly and cute before they fucked him up.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” Gilen giggles.

I shoot him a glare, make a sound of protest, and snuggle closer to Lutz. “Screw off. Mine.”

They both laugh. Lutz grins at his brother. “Also possessive.”

I flip Gilen off over my shoulder. Gilen giggles, but he finally takes the hint and leaves.

Lutz rolls his eyes and returns to petting my hair. I huff a little and close my eyes again. “Gil needs to learn when to shut up.”

Lutz grins. “Yeah, he does.”

I yawn again. Lutz moves his free hand over and catches my hand, tugging off my glove and sliding his fingers through mine. I would fight more, but this is different. I didn’t even know being pet was so pleasant until he was actually doing it.

After a moment’s hesitation, Lutz reaches forward and presses his lips to my cheek. It’s gentle and warm, then he pulls back and shuts his eyes again.

I shut my eyes the rest of the way and close my hand on his. This is nice. This is actually kinda nice. I could get used to this.


	7. Back To Normal And Hell Breaks Loose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luciano is back to normal, and Gilen makes the horrible decision to push his limits.

**_~Lutz~_ **

After about an hour and a half—it’s now afternoon—Lucca finally seems to return to normal. He rolls up to his feet and dusts himself off, rubs his eyes, and flattens his hair.

I roll up to my feet as well, changing into something clean. I don’t even care, really, that Lucca’s still in the room. I like him and, at this point, I trust him.

I smooth out my clothes and wave. “Dad’s probably making lunch. Come.”

Lucca peeks up at me shyly, looking almost like his little kid self again. But the moment I move out the door, he follows.  He keeps his eyes down, shy as he usually is. But he’s no longer cuddly.

The moment we’re out and in sight, Dad shoots us a welcoming smile and heads into the kitchen. Gilen looks up from the couch, then smirks at us. “Hey.”

“Hallo.”

“Ciao,” Lucca says in this tiny little voice. It’s like he backpedaled and is scared again, but that’s not it. Not quite. Something’s different.

Gilen pushes up to his feet and slides around the coffee table, a half-smile on his lips. “Hey, Lucca.”

Lucca fidgets. Gilen reaches out and runs his fingers through his hair.

For a moment, Lucca is still. Then he twitches and shakes Gilen’s hand from his hair. He came just a little too close to the curl he said to avoid.

I shrug at Gilen. “Don’t touch the curl. That’s the rule.”

Gilen looks a little amused. “Why? What’s it do?”

Lucca peeks up just enough to glare at him. “You don’t need to know.”

Gilen reaches out and pokes the curl with one finger.

Just like that, Lucca practically implodes. He twirls away from Gilen and reappears on my other side. His eyes are now very dilated and the curl is in a little heart, and he shakes his head repeatedly then hisses, “ _I said don’t._ ”

I tilt my head. “It’s...erogenous?”

Lucca shifts his eyes away, but since he doesn’t say no I take that as a yes. “Oh.”

I glance at Gilen. He’s laughing into his hands now. I clear my throat. “I wouldn’t test my luck if I were you, brother.”

There’s a soft knock at the door in a pattern I don’t recognize. But Lucca’s eyes light up and he turns towards the door. “Grande fratello.”

“Flavio,” I acknowledge.

Gilen is still laughing. I move forward and unlock the door, tugging it open. Flavio storms inside like he owns the place, so I just shut the door and shrug it off.

“Fratello,” Lucca says, and he leaps into his brother.

Flavio catches him and wraps his arms around him. “Lucca.”

Lucca wraps both his arms and his legs around his brother, burying his face in Flavio’s shoulder. Flavio seems to accept this as perfectly normal and kisses his cheek. “Stai bene?” he asks. (( _Are you okay?_ ))

Lucca shakes his head and answers quietly, “L’albino, Gilen, toccò il ricciolo. Dopo che Lutz gli disse di non farlo. È un punto di forza confinante, quindi è peggio del solito.” (( _The albino one, Gilen, he touched the curl. After Lutz told him not to. He’s borderline attractive so it’s worse than usual._ ))

“Ah.” Flavio tightens his grip on his brother. “Passa. Starai bene.” (( _It’ll pass. You’ll be okay._ ))

Lucca pouts. “Gli disse di non farlo.” (( _He told him not to._ ))

“I know.”

Finally Lucca drops to the floor and Flavio immediately wheels on Gilen. I figured that’s what they were talking about. “You’re an asshole,” he deadpans.

Gilen is still giggling. I sigh and cross my arms. “Bruder. Idiot. Passt auf. Sie sauer von seinem Bruder, derjenige, der der Grund ist, dass er Messerjungen genannt wird. Hör auf zu lachen.” (( _Brother. Idiot. Pay attention. You pissed off his brother, the one who’s the reason he’s called knife boy. Stop laughing._ ))

“Oi,” Flavio snaps.

Lucca sidles over and wraps both his arms around my left arm. I let him, tipping my head over to briefly touch the top of his head. “He’s like that sometimes. I told you he’s mentally unstable and unpredictable.”

Lucca sighs. “I heard.”

His voice trembles slightly. I pull my arm free and wrap it around him, rubbing his arm a little. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

He snuggles against my side and shuts his eyes. “It’ll pass. It always does. I’ll just be a little shaky for a bit. It’s bad enough when it’s someone like Hayden. It’s worse when they’re even a little attractive. And from there it just gets worse.”

I plant a quick kiss on the top of his head. “That just makes me hate Hayden more.”

He shrugs. “Eh, you already took care of that. It doesn’t matter.”

Flavio pulls his knife from his belt and lifts it threateningly. “Oi!”

Finally Gilen stops laughing. He backs up to the wall with his sword hung on it.

“Dad!” I call. “We have a problem.”

Dad pops out of the kitchen. He immediately shoves Gilen away from the sword. “Gilen! We’ve been over this. If you kill anyone we have to move again. You’re already on probation. Don’t ruin it.”

I squeeze Lucca’s arm a little. Dad turns to me. “What happened?”

I cough. “His curl’s erogenous. He told me not to touch it, so I told Gilen not to. But he did. So obviously Lucca’s not happy. And this is his brother Flavio.”

I nod to the blonde. “He’s not happy either.”

Dad coughs. “Hey. Drop the knife. Not in my house.”

“That’s a bad idea,” Lucca mutters.

Flavio tightens his grip on his knife. “No.”

“I told you.”

I edge a couple steps forward. “Flavio.”

He whirls on me. “ _What?_ ”

I wince. “Relax. Lucca says he’ll be okay. This doesn’t need to escalate.”

“I’ll call Sebastiano,” he threatens.

Lucca shakes his head very quickly. “No, no, no. Don’t. Bad idea. _Very_ bad idea. He’ll already be grumpy with you calling him at work and that’ll make it worse and—don’t. Don’t.”

I take a deep breath. This is gonna be a bold and wildly dangerous move, but it needs to happen.

I let go of Lucca and edge forward. Flavio’s eyes are narrowed, but he doesn’t try and stop me.

It takes a little to get close enough. But finally I reach out and pull the knife from his hand, then dodge out of his way before he can react. I turn and toss Lucca the knife. To my pleasant surprise, he reaches up and catches it with ease, sliding it onto his belt.

Flavio is frozen. Lucca edges towards his brother, hands in the air. “Flavee. Please. Fratello. Per favore. Per favore. Questo è suo fratello. Lo avrebbe odiato se questo accadesse a Seb. Calmati.” (( _Brother. Please. Please. That's his brother. You'd hate it if this happened to Seb. Take it easy._ ))

After a moment, Flavio clenches his fists and turns slowly towards me. “What the _fuck_?”

Lucca moves between me and his brother. “Flavee. Per favore. Per favore. Per favore. Lui è il mio unico amico e lui è veramente bello per me. Ha solo paura. Per favore. Per amore di Dio, in realtà mi piace. Lascialo solo. Per favore. Per favore. Flavee. Fratello. Per favore.” (( _Please. Please. Please. He's my only friend and he's actually nice to me. He's just scared. Please. For God's sake, I actually like him. Leave him alone. Please. Please. Flavee. Brother. Please._ ))

“Shut _up_!” Flavio snaps.

Lucca flinches and starts to cry. I decide to take another big risk and I reach out and pull his phone from his pocket. Maybe Sebastiano can actually calm Flavio down.

Lucca doesn’t try to stop me, but one glance reveals the very real fear in his eyes. He continues to plead with his brother. “Per favore. Per favore. Fratello. Per favore.”

“What’s he saying?” Dad asks.

“Please, brother, please,” I answer for him. “Over and over again. Other than that, I don’t know.”

I unlock his phone and open his contacts. Sure enough, Sebastiano’s nickname is “miglior fratello”. I tap on it and hit call, then press it to my ear. I’ll put it on speaker if I can get him to cooperate.

It takes a moment before a deep, thickly accented voice picks up, “Ciao? Lucca, you know I’m at work.”

I take a deep breath. “This is his friend. I think we need your help. Flavio’s snapped and he’s making Luciano cry. He keeps saying ‘ _brother please_ ’ over and over again but Flavio’s pissed.”

There’s a pause. Then he says, “Put it on speaker.”

I pull it from my ear and put it on speaker. Lucca turns and burrows against me, hiding the tears in my shirt. “Per favore.”

It’s quiet, one last plea. He’s broken.

“Flavio,” Sebastiano says in a warning tone, “Sai cosa succede se non sei attento. Non vuoi perdere di nuovo il fratellino, vero? Calmati.” (( _You know what happens if you’re not careful. You don’t want to lose little brother again, do you? Take it easy._ ))

“L’asino di Albino qui ha toccato il riccio di Lucca dopo che il suo amico gli disse di non farlo!” Flavio argues. “Lucca stava tremando quando sono arrivato qui.” (( _Albino asshole over here touched Lucca’s curl after his friend told him not to! Lucca was fucking shaking when I got here._ ))

Lucca whirls around. “Avete anche ascoltato Lutz? Ti ha già detto, andrò bene. Non è così male. È attraente per i confini, quindi è peggio di quanto avrebbe potuto essere, ma stai facendo peggio urlando e agitando il tuo dannato coltello al mio amico e alla sua famiglia! Giuro a Dio, se non ti calmo, chiamerò Papà. Calma l’inferno. Ho provato a essere bello, sono finito. _Lo stai facendo peggio_.”

(( _Did you even listen to Lutz? He already told you, I’ll be fine. It’s not that bad. He’s borderline attractive so it’s worse than it could’ve been, but you’re making it worse by yelling and waving your damn knife at my friend and his family! I swear to God, if you don’t calm down I’ll call Dad. Calm the hell down. I tried being nice, I’m done._ _You’re making it worse_ _._ ))

“I told you,” Sebastiano says. “Fratellino.”

Lucca coughs a few times and spins back around, burrowing against me. Flavio bares his teeth. “Give me my knife back.”

“Only if you swear not to use it,” I say quietly. “And not on my big brother.”

He grits his teeth. “Fine!”

Lucca pulls it from his belt. I take it and toss it back. “There. Now calm the hell down.”

Flavio storms from the house. I sigh. “Well, that’s better than him stabbing things.”

Gilen is frozen a couple steps in front of his dad. Sebastiano sighs. “Whoever touched the curl, don’t. Ever again. Now, I have work to do. Fratellino?”

Lucca peeks up. “Sí?”

“Stai bene, giusto?” (( _You’re okay, right?_ ))

“Sí. Grazie.”

He sighs again. “Ovviamente. Parliamo più tardi.” (( _Of course. Talk to you later._ ))

“Ovviamente. Ciao.” (( _Of course. Bye._ ))

I hang up the phone and drop it back in Lucca’s pocket.

Dad turns to Gilen. “Next time someone tells you not to do something, don’t do it. Or you get to miss a meal. And no damn swords!”

Dad turns back to me. “Lunch’ll be ready in ten.”

“’Kay.”

Dad leaves the room. Gilen pouts and sweeps up the hall.

Lucca hides again. I move us over to the couch and drop down. Lucca crawls into my lap and curls up against me, burying his tiny sobs in his knees.

For around six or seven minutes, nobody moves. But finally Lucca calms and quickly dries his face on his sleeve, curling up in a tighter ball. “Grazie. For calling miglior fratello.”

I nod. “I figured if you couldn’t calm Flavio down, maybe he could. And it worked. So in the end, I won. He’ll be grumpy as fuck for awhile, but he’ll eventually let it go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “He’ll probably glare at you for awhile. But he can’t get too mad since you’re actually being nice to me. Most people aren’t.”

He hesitates. “Although…because you called, Sebastiano’s probably gonna come down. From his place. He lives about an hour away. He likes big cities like New York but he couldn’t bring himself to live so far away from us so he stayed down here. Hearing the words ‘ _I’m his friend_ ’ is gonna be enough for him to drop by for a few hours.”

We get back up. I shrug it off. “If I can steal Flavio’s knife and not get stabbed, I may possibly be able to handle Sebastiano as well. I knew it was a dangerous move, but letting him keep it while angry was also a bad idea. It was a better option than waiting him out and giving him the chance to stab someone.”

“It was _really_ dangerous,” he agrees. “But it was a good move. He’s not as dangerous without it. He’ll throw a fit but he’ll calm down eventually.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he reaches out and slides his fingers through mine. Both of his gloves are now missing, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Hungry?” I ask.

He flashes a watery smile. “Yeah, I could eat.”


	8. Sebastiano Vargas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastiano Vargas is in town, and he wants to talk to the boy who called about his brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if this is triggering, but there's talk of mental illness because Gilen is extremely mentally ill. He's taking a lot of drugs (but not to the point of abuse, these are regular 'chill' pills) and if he doesn't take them he's unstable. He also killed his best friend and that's why he has the pills.
> 
> I'm thinking either split or multiple personalities, and you can feel free to suggest which one you prefer. I'm leaning towards split personalities. I'm doing my research and have taken psychology classes, so Gilen will be written as accurately to his condition as possible. I might take some liberties with him...not sure. I'm winging it. If I use something not accurate it will be properly noted.
> 
> I found this on split/dissociative personalities! "https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/conditions/dissociative-identity-disorder-multiple-personality-disorder" I will be referencing this whenever Gilen is being written. So far, so good!

**_~Lutz~_ **

I sent Gilen out of the house and told him to try and either apologize to Flavio or go make friends. He went reluctantly, grumbling the whole way.

Luciano is back. It’s later in the day and he returns, but he’s not alone. He has a taller man in a business suit holding his hand, and he looks nervous. I’m glad I sent my brother away now.

I open the door and step back out of the way. Lucca takes the hint and moves inside, and the man holding his hand hesitantly follows. I close the door and lead them into the living room.

“I told Gilen to go try and make friends or maybe apologize,” I tell Luciano. “He’s not home.”

Lucca relaxes a little. “Okay.”

He lets go of the man’s hand and crosses his arms. “Uh, this is Sebastiano.”

I offer him my hand. “Lutz Beilschmidt. I’ve heard a bit about you.”

He takes my hand, tips his chin up proudly, and shakes my hand once. “Sebastiano Vargas. I hear you’re the one who called me.”

I shrug. “Figured if Luciano couldn’t calm Flavio down, you probably could. And it worked.”

He lets go and steps back, away from me and a little closer towards the chair. I gesture. “You can sit down if you like. We don’t bite, and Gilen isn’t home.”

Sebastiano immediately steals Mom’s chair. I sit on the couch. Luciano sits next to me, and—with a nervous glance at his brother—scoots over and picks up my hand.

I turn to look Sebastiano over. Dark blue jeans, black military boots, and a medium-dark blue jacket set him apart from his brothers, but his black belt that loops his waist and across over his shoulder mimics Luciano’s. His hair is black, and his curl looks like Luciano’s curl but sits about three inches higher on his head, more centered on his left rather than near his shoulder.

He returns the cursory observational once-over. “Gilen?”

“My older brother. He’s mentally unstable and sometimes dangerous.” I point out the sword on the wall. “That’s his. If you try and take it away he’ll rip you limb from limb to get it back. He nearly killed Dad once.”

“Christ,” Sebastiano mutters.

I shrug and drop my hand. “He’s also the one who touched Lucca’s curl. He nearly pulled his sword on Flavio. That’s why I was trying to calm him down; if anyone else draws a sword or knife, so does he. If we calm Flavio, we calm Gilen by proxy. It worked. He’s grumpy but for the most part he’s harmless. He’s on about five different drugs, and probation. We have a close eye on him. He has a tracking collar on his ankle; it’s hidden under his clothes.”

Lucca scoots in and curls up leaning into me, his arm pressing against mine and his arms both cocooning my right arm. He rests his nose on my arm, the side of his face pressed into me. He’s being abnormally cuddly, and I’m not sure why. Maybe standing up to Gilen and Flavio helped me to win him over a bit.

I shrug a little. “We’ve heard he’s bipolar, but on the extreme end. It’s like autism; you get too far on the dysfunctional side all hell breaks loose. One minute he’s laughing, flirting, hugging you. The next he has a sword to your neck and he’s ready to kill you. He might have split personalities. He’s adopted; we’re not sure what exactly is wrong. We’ve taken him to a lot of psychologists and they all think he’s normal, but they haven’t met him with a sword in hand. He’s dangerous sometimes.”

“Has he killed anyone?” Sebastiano asks.

“There’s the thing: yes.” I raise an eyebrow. “But no.”

“Huh?”

“Yes, by physical evidence,” I say, “he killed his best friend in North Carolina. But after the fact he ‘ _woke up_ ’ so-to-speak, and he was collapsed on the ground sobbing, soaked in blood, and confused. He said he didn’t remember anything; he blacked it out. That’s what makes me think it’s split personalities, and maybe bipolar too but more in the middle of the road. He doesn’t remember anything. The cops wanted him dead, but we fought hard enough and pleaded insane, and they let him go on the condition he’s heavily drugged all the time and constantly wearing a tracker.”

Lucca curls a little closer. I look away. “He’s been trying to skip his drugs recently. I think that was one of his slips. Dad got the pills in him before lunch, and he chilled out.”

“Ah. Is that bad?”

“Yes. The drugs are what make him a tolerable human being. Otherwise, he has no filters. Hence the curl, hence the fact that he’ll say anything that comes to mind even if he’s been told not to, and the list goes on.”

Lucca closes his eyes. I tug my arm free and wrap it lightly around him. “Has he told you about Hayden Fisher?”

Lucca stiffens. Sebastiano shakes his head.

I sigh. “Lucca, seriously.”

He shivers. “I can’t say the words.”

I look to his brother. “He showed up this morning around one a.m., and he brought Hayden with him. Andrés’ dad is a cop, so I called Andrés and he got Hayden dragged off. But he did actually do some damage, so we brought him to the hospital. Dad said there were four broken ribs, and he had bruises and all kinds of internal bleeding from previous run-ins. I don’t know everything, but from what he would tell me and what I saw Hayden’s been beating him up and raping him since freshman year because he’s gay and Italian, and because he calls him ‘ _knife boy_ ’ because of Flavio.”

Sebastiano stiffens, and again Lucca shivers. I massage Lucca’s arm a bit. “Hayden’s already trying to fight the charges. We don’t want him getting free or he’ll hurt him again.”

Seb moves over to sit on Lucca’s other side. “Fratellino.”

Lucca starts crying, and he leaps over to hug his brother. His voice is high-pitched and squeaky, and he says something to his brother in Italian: “Non volevo che tu cercassi di ferirlo e di farti male, e ha detto che se avessi detto a qualcuno che ti avrebbe ucciso e violentato Flavio e che non avrei lasciato che accadesse. Lo sapeva, perché era mio amico. Ha anche scoperto che sono transgender in caso di incidente. Questo è quello che non sa.” (( _I didn’t want you trying to hurt him and getting hurt, and he said if I told anybody he’d kill you and rape Flavio and there was no way I’d let that happen. He knew that, because he used to be my friend. He also found out I’m transgender on accident. That’s what he doesn’t know._ ))

Seb is still for awhile. “That’s not happening.”

Lucca collapses in a heap in Sebastiano’s lap, and he’s sobbing. I look to his brother.

“Hayden apparently said he’d kill me and rape Flavio if he told anyone,” Sebastiano translates what his brother said. “And Hayden knew there was no way Lucca would let that happen because they used to be friends.”

“Some fucking friend,” I mutter.

“And he isn’t getting out.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Sebastiano raises an eyebrow. “I’m a lawyer. He’s not going anywhere but prison or an insane asylum.”

I nod. “Alright. You’ll want to talk to Andrés’ dad to get involved; give me a minute to call.”


End file.
